Blood Of My Blood
by Ildera
Summary: Just a quick look into Jack Sparrow's mind. I don't think it's been done like this before, but I could be wrong . . . hell, I'm wrong most of the time. Why not read it and find out?


Hey there, yes it's me again. This wouldn't go away, so I thought I'd use it to test a theory of mine, since Word has decided to give up the ghost on my computer. Still, it seems to have worked, so look out for the next chapter of Fair Wind Or Foul, okay?  
  
Of course, no A/N would be complete without a disclaimer, so here goes : It's not mine. None of it. If you sue me, all you'll get is my brother and my dad's car. Will that do, do you think?  
  
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .  
  
*~*~*  
  
Blood Of My Blood  
  
*~*~*  
  
How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace?  
  
When I stand here taking every breath with you  
  
You're the only one who really knew me at all  
  
The stiff sea breeze blew hard through her hair as he watched her leave, the beads sparkling in the afternoon sunlight as she waved to him from the ship s it drew out from the harbour and into the wide blue of the sea beyond. And all along the dock, the men and women they were leaving behind had gathered to wish them well, not knowing if this would be the last sight of their loved ones they would have.  
  
The child's eyes remained fixed on the lithe figure at the helm, secure in the knowledge that she too could not tear her gaze from his face. They were one, bound by love and blood, and honour, a commodity not many pirates still owned. He smiled sadly, lifting a hand to return her smiling farewell. She never stayed for long, but just long enough to make her impression upon the boy she had borne. Her only son, who adored her with all his heart, left standing on the quayside as his mother sailed away from him once more.  
  
The smile on her face was echoed by his own, a vibrant grin that would not fade with time. So long as the memory of one another remained true, the light that seemed to radiate from them both would never dim. They had shared so much, joy, sadness, despair, exultation . . . yet a time had come when it was no longer safe for the small boy to travel with his mother. She was hunted by every sea-faring country in the world, hunted for acts of piracy executed under her command.   
  
How can you just walk away from me when all I can do is watch you leave?  
  
'Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain, and even shared the tears  
  
You're the only one who really knew me at all  
  
But he could remember a time before, when she had been there every morning when he woke and every evening as he fell asleep. He recalled with wistful joy the times he had sailed with her, aboard her ship, the laughter that permeated wherever she was. The exhilaration of sailing into a hostile port, storming a fort, locking a governor in his own dungeon, all done with a background of laughter and banter that he knew he would not find anywhere other than the sea.   
  
Even the injuries, the danger that was a part of her life had not marred the closeness that had marked out the pirate captain and her son as they stood together at the helm of whatever ship she had commandeered this time. His fingers found the scar she had given him, a jagged white line along his forearm that stood out stark against his sun-browned skin. He remembered again the fear of that night, the crippling terror that he was going to lose her. Her pale face, almost lost but for the darkness of her hair against the pillows. Her weak laughter as she drew him closer, drawing her dagger to cut his arm and press her own blood into the wound.   
  
'Don't be sad for me,' she had said. 'Now I'm part of you, my sparrow, flowing through your veins. You'll never be rid of me.'  
  
Despite his fear, he had laughed, drawn to lie alongside his mother as she slept off the weariness that had seeped through her in the hours since her injury. It had been a good time, he thought, tracing the scar fondly, but then, so many of them were.  
  
There had been hard times too, times when the laughter faded and the banter stopped, and all that was left was silence. The day the British had caught up to them, three ships out to capture the infamous female pirate and her crew of loyal vagabonds, not so very long ago. The deep and abiding sorrow when they finally limped into this very harbour, the bilges leaking faster than they could pump out, fully half the crew lying dead among the wreckage strewn across the deck. The sound of her tears as she looked on her ravaged dream, her men wounded or dead and her ship destroyed.  
  
So take a look at me now, there's just an empty space  
  
And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face  
  
Take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space  
  
And you coming back to me is against the odds  
  
And that's what I've got to face  
  
She had recovered quickly, faster than anyone would have thought possible, though the haunting sadness behind her eyes warned any who looked not to mention the loss, that the pain was still very near. And look at her now, sailing out under her own flag, a new ship, a revitalised crew, only one person left behind - the child that she could no longer bear to put in danger. He had been angry, but she had stood her ground, threatening to have him tied up and unable to see the ship safely away. Faced with the humiliation of this, he had given up, but now as he stood on the dock, he bitterly regretted her decision. What if she should come up against some enemy that she could not defeat? That was determined to see her dead?  
  
Fears and worries flew through his young mind, concern for the only family he had, the only love he had known. And for the first time in many years, he was just a young child, standing alone on the quayside as his mother sailed away from him, leaving him to his own fortunes without a second glance. She had turned her back, unable to face him any longer, and resentment welled up within him. How could she just sail away from him? And to leave nothing for him to remember her by, not a pistol or scarf, nothing. Just the memory of her smiling face, and the sight of her at the helm of her ship, sailing off into the distance without him.  
  
I wish I could just make you turn around, turn around and see me cry  
  
There's so much I need to say to you, so many reasons why  
  
You're the only one who really knew me at all  
  
Blind to anyone but the captain aboard her ship, the boy stared after her, out across the water, willing her to turn, to look at him once more with that reassuring smile and change her mind. Water pricked his eyes, tears beginning to tumble down his cheeks unchecked as he watched her leave him behind, wetting his lips and chin with the salt water that was not the sea that she loved. Would he see her again, know the joy of standing by her side, riding the crest of the waves along the Caribbean coast? They said not. They said the journey was a fool's errand, a chance to go down in a blaze of glory, to make their graves with those of their comrades, resting beneath the waves.   
  
So take a look at me now, there's just an empty space  
  
And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face  
  
Now take a look at me now, 'cos there's just an empty space  
  
But to wait for you is all I can do and that's what I've got to face  
  
They had been right, the man thought, watching as the image of the ship sailing out to harbour and the boy sobbing faded from his mind's eye. And what a blaze of glory it had been, still talked about in the taverns all over the Caribbean, how she had gone down with cannon still firing, her crew defiant to the last. But no one spoke of the child who had been left behind, at last with a reminder of his fierce mother, but one that promised no triumphant return, no loving embrace, and worst of all, no laughing smile to brighten his days. Just one man had survived, seeking out the child to pass to him the reminder the captain had pressed into his hand before throwing him overboard. And the message she had made him swear to deliver.  
  
'I'm a part of you, sparrow, I'm in your blood. You'll never be rid of me.'  
  
The tears pricked his eyes again, this time suppressed with the ease of long years of experience and hardship that had haunted the boy he had been. It had not been for many years that he had accepted that she was never coming back to him, that to wait was to wish his life away.   
  
But he never had been rid of her, carrying her last gift to him to this day, a single glittering coin, threaded into the braids that adorned his head to keep her close. But even without it, she would never really be gone, not as long as the name she had given him lived on, and by God, he would see that it did, for generations to come. Even now, he was known across the Caribbean, and his ship was the fastest you could hope to see. She was beautiful, a queen of her line, and he was honoured to sail her. He knew his mother would have been, too.  
  
Take a good look at me now, 'cos I'll still be standing here  
  
And you coming back to me is against all odds  
  
It's the chance I've gotta take  
  
He stared out, across the harbour, seeing again his mother's last farewell as she sailed onward to the destiny she carved for herself on the white-crested waves of the ocean. He was still standing on the quayside in his mind, waiting for her to return to his side, to take him with her. To let him go down with guns blazing, at her side as he had so wished to be. He remembered how the ship turned slightly, into the wind, as her sails billowed, drawing her further from him. A hand touched his shoulder, and he glanced down, reaching out with a smile to draw his woman to his side, other hand moving to stroke the cheek of the child she held in her arms. His mother may have passed on, leaving him a child in the world of men, but she was in his blood, and those of his blood, smiling out at him from behind his child's eyes.   
  
Take a look at me now . . .  
  
And in his mind, as the ship began to move further than he could see, the captain turned to smile on her son, wishing him life and joy, and a reputation to rival her own. And what a life he had. 


End file.
